


Call In Your Bets

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Adultery, Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Chapter 686
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Her name in his mouth, his hands in her hair, it's all she ever needed.





	Call In Your Bets

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2016 for a tumblr prompt.

The first time it happens, Orihime thinks it’s a one-off, and is guilty about it for days. Even Ichigo notices, and she stammers and flushes through an explanation about stress at work and then makes him dinner and they forget about it. 

The second time it happens, she’s spread out on the floor at Ishida’s flat, her fist in her mouth, and her teeth in her skin as Ishida’s clever fingers take her apart in a way that Ichigo has never managed. She goes home that night and there’s an extra bounce to her steps and an extra lift in her shoulders. Ichigo doesn’t say a word. 

The third time it happens - and Orihime swears it’s gonna be the  _last_  time, because this is insane - she’s run into Ishida at the market, and he looks at her and she looks at him, and it’s all she can do to keep herself from throwing herself at him there in the street. 

They race back to his office, giddy like schoolchildren, and he’s stripping her out of her blouse and she’s pawing at his belt and tugging his pants down while she drops to her knees. 

“What’re you –”

“Shut up Ishida,” she husks, “you talk too much.” 

He collapses back into his desk chair and Orihime wastes no time on build up or teasing. She takes him in hand, and Ishida’s knuckles turn white where they grip the arms of his chair. She purses her lips and looks up at him. Ishida swallows audibly and then Orihime makes her move. 

Ishida makes the most wonderful choked off noise when she scrapes her teeth up the underside of his cock. His hips jump and his hands clench around the arms of the chair so hard Orihime wonders if he’s going to hurt himself. She puts the thought out of her mind, and focuses instead on the slip-slide of her lips and the pressure of her tongue against him. 

She wonders why he doesn’t put his hands in her hair. She’d mussed his thoroughly that night in his flat, but it’s almost like he’s keeping himself restrained. 

She lifts off him, and looks up. Ishida whines in the back of his throat before his eyes open and he looks down at her. 

“You know you can touch me,” Orihime says, and has the pleasure of watching Ishida’s eyes flutter shut and a rippling tension run through his whole body. He opens his eyes and she watches him unclench his hands and then she feels him lace his fingers into her hair and her own eyes close, and she shudders under the feel of his hands. 

When she closes her mouth around him again, she can feel the shocky shudder of his body as he tries to hold himself back. She hums around him and his breath comes out of him in a rush and the whining repetition of her name. It’s Inoue still, always Inoue, never Kurosaki-san,  _never._

 _Orihime_ , she thinks, as she fists her hand around him and he moans,  _call me Orihime._  And as if by telepathic suggestion, he does. 

Her name in his mouth - her  _first name_  - wrecked and cracked and shot through with the molten heat she is fanning with her mouth and her hands. The sound of it nearly undoes her, there on her knees on the floor of his office, completely untouched. It does undo him, and his fingers tangle mercilessly in her hair. He pulls and his body jerks and Orihime would smile if she could. 

Instead, she gentles him through it, and when he’s come down, she stands, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and leans down to kiss him. His hands find their way back into her hair and Orihime knows she’s never going to stop wanting them in it. 

When the kiss breaks, she stays close enough to feel his breath ghosting over her lips, close enough to the see the way his eyes are dark with want, the way his skin is tinted and the way the hair at his temples is damp. “Never Inoue, never again. Only Orihime.” 

“Orihime,” he says, and she kisses him, kisses the taste of her name out of his mouth and knows that this was never the last time, that there will never  _be_ a last time. 


End file.
